Journey to al-Ula
Loud music booms from the dark entrance, while red-green party lights strobe into the night to the beat of an Arab pop song. Inside the bar, empty wine bottles are lined up on a shelf, "alcohol-free", as the small print reveals. In the dimly lit premises, young people sit at tables, heads close together, while others dance.
It is Friday evening, the first day of the weekend in Saudi Arabia. Tahlia Street is where the youth of the capital Riyadh gather. Young men rev their cars, women smoke shisha at tables outside the many restaurants. Only a few have donned the niqab, the black face veil with only a slit for the eyes. Many sport loosely tied headscarves, while others wear their hair down.
It is our last evening in Saudi Arabia. We left at the beginning of December, not really knowing what to expect. For almost two weeks we have driven around the country, 3000 kilometres in all, completing laps on roller skates at an outdoor disco and finding out how young men in Saudi Arabia date. Often amazed, sometimes confused, we have been forced to question our own preconceptions about this desert country. And then there have been the doubts: should we really be spending our holiday in a country that shows such blatant disregard for human rights?
Nationalism, the new religion
Arguably, few societies in the world have changed as quickly and as dramatically in recent years as Saudi Arabia. For decades, women and men lived strictly separate lives. They used separate entrances and rooms in restaurants, at weddings, in banks. If a woman and a man who were not closely related were caught together by the religious police, they faced imprisonment and flogging.
The religious police fined shops that remained open during prayer times; they punished women if a strand of their hair was showing. These and a number of other laws based on Wahhabism, a fundamentalist interpretation of Islam, are now passe, all abolished within a few years. Since 37-year-old Mohammed bin Salman ascended to the crown prince's throne in 2017, little in Saudi society has stayed the same.
Diriyah – a suburb northwest of Riyadh – is perhaps the most telling example of the mythology the young crown prince is busy inventing for his country. Diriyah is considered the birthplace of the Saudi kingdom. In an earthen settlement surrounded by walls, the ruler Mohammed Ibn Saud made a pact in 1744 with the arch-conservative jurist Ibn Abd al-Wahhab, the founder of Wahhabism.
Both wanted to establish a state on the Arabian Peninsula, but failed single-handedly to subjugate the tribes. Ibn Saud used the strict ideology of Wahhabism, which turned people into zealous supporters, to lend his rule religious legitimacy. To date, this has been the official version of Saudi history.
But you won't find the date 1744 mentioned anywhere on information boards in the adobe settlement in Diriyah, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. In recent years, the Saudis have turned the place into a large open-air museum with interactive screens telling visitors that Ibn Saud founded the first Saudi state in Diriyah in 1727.
The next date on the timeline is 1766, accompanied by the comment that markets and trade were flourishing, and that Diriyah became the "heart of calls for reform". There is no reference to 1744, nor to the role of Islam.
As a young female guide explains: "We only show the political history of the country, it's all about the statesmen here, religion was less important anyway." Her words express what the royal family is trying to convey. In early 2022, King Salman issued a decree declaring 22 February 1727 to be the nation's founding day. International historians consider the date questionable, but in Saudi Arabia people are told what to believe from the top down. The decree amounted to a break with Wahhabism. Now it is nationalism that is supposed to inspire Saudis with passion for their homeland. "I am very proud to be able to show off my beautiful country," says the guide. There are many misconceptions about Saudi Arabia, she says, and that is why it is great that foreign tourists are now able to come here to experience it for themselves.
Right now, Diriyah is mainly visited by locals. The restored adobe settlement celebrated its opening on 4 December. During our visit, it seemed as if half of Riyadh's high society was streaming in. Rolls-Royces, Porsches and Bentleys were parked outside the gates. Women carried designer bags and wore lots of make-up. The 200 rial, the equivalent of 50 Swiss francs, which the entrance fee costs at the weekend, could be deducted from our bill in one of the fancy restaurants, while "Feels Like Heaven" played softly from speakers in the background.
The huge site leading up to the adobe buildings is a bit like a luxury Disneyland. Expensive cafes cosy up to exclusive restaurants, all of which could be in Paris. A carousel, live music and ice cream stands entertain visitors. Were it not for pillars pointing to prayer rooms, you'd be forgiven for forgetting you are in Saudi Arabia.
The tour through the clay buildings takes about an hour. The houses look particularly pretty at dusk, thanks to an ingenious lighting system, and children's laughter issues forth from concealed speakers. Friendly watchmen point the way to the next alley. Those interested in history can opt to be accompanied free of charge by one of the multilingual guides. And there are plans to extend the perfect world within the huge grounds even further.
Everywhere, barriers obscure the view of construction sites. Eventually, there will be more than 150 restaurants, 28 luxury hotels and 400 boutiques. Nevertheless, we found three Yemeni girls selling water bottles for one rial in a dusty side street, while Pakistani guest workers watched the passing tourists from their front doors.
Al-Ula, new place of pilgrimage for influencers
We drive from Riyadh across the country to the west, ten hours to al-Ula. Most tourists will opt to fly long distances, after all, domestic flights are cheap. But if you want to get a feel for Saudi Arabia outside the modern cities, you should go by car. In one village, young men are loading baby camels onto a pick-up truck, women almost invariably wear the niqab, and in the restaurants, they eat in the so-called "family section" – a separate room with individual, separate booths. Life in the countryside has nothing to do with the desert town of al-Ula – the latest influencers' hotspot.
It is the jewel in the crown of Saudi Arabia's tourism industry. Al-Ula is an oasis on the Incense Road, where the desert meets history and culture. Crown Prince bin Salman appointed a royal commission especially for its development. Hundreds of guest workers are building mud houses in the old town so that tourists will soon be able to visit them on a historical tour similar to the one in Diriyah.
In the newer part of the rock-framed old town are open-air cafés, souvenir shops and studios. There are brick walls with colourfully painted decorations that people with an Instagram profile are unlikely to walk past without snapping a photo. Large swings hang between palm trees, litter bins and air conditioners are hidden behind wooden covers.
Everything here is beautiful and so new that there is still masking tape clinging to some of the facades. Construction workers are hammering and drilling everywhere. In the oasis next to the old town, visitors can learn more about organic gardening in courses held between date palms. Lettuce, lemons and dill grow in the fields.
Julien, a Frenchman with a backpack who is spending twelve days travelling around the country, walks through al-Ula. He says: "I thought I would never be able to travel around Saudi Arabia because I am not a Muslim, and now . . ." - he claps his hands joyfully.
The kingdom began offering its first tourist visas to non-Muslims at the end of 2019. Prior to that, it had remained more isolated than North Korea for forty years. In future, however, 100 million travellers are expected to flock to the country annually. Tourism is part of Crown Prince bin Salman's strategy to make his kingdom less dependent on oil. His "Vision 2030" includes mega-projects on the Red Sea, where tourists will soon be discovering sandy beaches and coral reefs.
In the north, the futuristic city of Neom is being built, which according to the plan will be thirty times bigger than New York. To spread the friendly face of Saudi Arabia around the world, the kingdom is inviting actresses, musicians and influencers. Many of them get a sponsored trip to Hegra, the UNESCO World Heritage Site outside al-Ula. These are tombs built by the Nabataeans, carved into the rock more than 2000 years ago. The capital of the Nabataean people was Petra, in Jordan, which attracts tourists en masse and is likely the model for Hegra.
A niqab-wearing guide is explaining to our group in front of a massive stone wall engraved with figures that the Nabataeans had no problem with tribes that worshipped other gods. Suddenly, a group of jeeps roars up; female influencers in belly-baring tops and young men in expensive sunglasses get out.
They pose for photos, which they will later share on social media, raving about Saudi Arabia. Many fans are likely to forget that the paid trips help whitewash the Saudi regime's reputation. When it comes to human rights, Saudi Arabia ranks bottom of the list.
Our guide has covered up her photo on the badge she wears around her neck with a sticker. She grew up in al-Ula and welcomes the opportunity to work in tourism. The belly-baring influencers don't bother her, she says. "Some in my grandfather's generation probably don't like it, but they will get used to it."
Across the country, criticism of the kingdom's new course remains muted. When King Salman disempowered the religious police, not a single imam grumbled publicly. Most receive their salaries from the state, and everyone knows that critics end up in prison. At worst, they end up like journalist Jamal Khashoggi, who was dismembered and dissolved in acid in the Saudi Arabian consulate in Istanbul.
This latest shift is not the first radical change Saudi Arabia has experienced. At the beginning of the 20th century, the country was poor and underdeveloped. Then explorers found oil fields in the late 1930s. Soon billions were gushing out of the ground. By the 1970s the oil boom was in full swing and Saudi society, while remaining religious, was developing into a modern nation.
But then, in 1979, everything changed. Hundreds of armed Islamists attacked the Great Mosque in Mecca, the holy site most revered by Muslims. They took pilgrims hostage in an attempt to overthrow the royal house and stop what they saw as the country's corrupt western course.
It was a disaster for the royal family. Violence and weapons were forbidden in the holy mosque in Mecca. It took two weeks to liberate the shrine. The Saudis were forced to accept the help of French anti-terrorism units. The fact that "infidels", who are actually forbidden to enter Mecca, were deployed was a disgrace for the king. To preserve his legitimacy, he had the highest theologians issue a fatwa, an Islamic legal opinion that permitted violence in the holy city. In return, the clerics demanded that the state consistently enforce Wahhabism in society and invest billions in missionary work abroad. The royal house agreed to their demands. Music and cinema were banned, and religious police patrolled the streets.
Youth culture in al-Ula and Jeddah
In and around al-Ula, that time now seems a world away. Luxury hotels with pools are springing up against the mountain backdrop. Saudi Nour, a pseudonym, works in one of these resorts. In the evening we accompany her to a roller-skating disco in the middle of al-Ula. Young people turn laps on rollerskates to the latest hits. Nour admits that her hotel is looking to apply for a licence to serve alcohol. Her boss believes the ban will soon be lifted – something Crown Prince bin Salman has so far denied in public.
Cocktails and beer are currently the one thing missing when it comes to fulfilling Western tourists' every wish. The primary target audience becomes clear in al-Ula: people with a lot of money who like luxury. There are no cheap hotels yet, except for a few campsites with Bedouin tents. Al-Ula is so obviously tailored to tourists with a Western mindset, it is as if the city had been created straight from a McKinsey brief. If you are looking for authenticity, you are in the wrong place. Those aiming for a carefree holiday will be happy in al-Ula. Presumably, that's what tourists want: a dash of adventure they can experience with exactly the same comforts they have at home.
Travellers who prefer less dazzling facades should visit the coastal town of Jeddah. The houses in the old town their filigree wooden bay windows, called roshan, are particularly worth seeing. In Jeddah, we stay with Walid, a Saudi in his mid-twenties, whom we found on the Couchsurfing platform. Walid's father works in a well-paid government job. He belongs to the generation that grew up with the old social contract: the state provides the people with wealth, in exchange for Saudi citizens staying out of politics. In the long run, the state can no longer afford to be so generous. In 2018, Saudis paid VAT and bills for their water consumption for the first time. Young people like Walid are expected to get used to working in the private sector. In return, the royal family is prepared to grant them more freedom.
Walid, who lives alone in a flat with a large terrace, moved from Riyadh to Jeddah for his job in the cultural sector. His life is similar to that of many young people around the world who have enough money: big TV, clunky car, he orders food from delivery companies. He had a girlfriend for a few months, he says, but it didn't work out between them. He says that young women and men in Saudi Arabia exchange their Snapcodes through car windows at red lights, so they can send each other photos via Snapchat, safe in the knowledge they will disappear again after a few seconds. Increasingly, the men send their Snapcodes via Airdrop – a transfer method between iPhones – to other phones in the vicinity. Dating apps are also in circulation, says Walid, and flirting takes place in large malls and coffee shops. He praises the liberalisation course of the crown prince. He admits to occasionally worrying that Saudi Arabia will one day become like Dubai. After all, everything there is fake.
Winning the trust of Saudis requires patience. Saudi society is pretty closed; people rarely invite strangers directly into their homes. Saudis are keen to protect their privacy, which is why many have drawn their curtains even during the day. Occasionally during the course of our conversations, particularly when he assumes he is contradicting our values, Walid seems uneasy; for example, when he admits that his father has two wives. Polygamy is allowed in the country. Despite liberalisation, many laws are based on the strict interpretation of Islamic law. Women are freer than before, but not freed from male guardianship everywhere.
As we return from Jeddah to Riyadh, we give Mecca a wide berth. Non-Muslims are forbidden from visiting the holy city. In Riyadh, we stroll through the market street Souk al-Zel. Young Saudis sell stickers and jute bags, next to them are dusty junk shops with tin cans from decades past. The narrative that Saudi Arabia is now becoming a futuristic state is only partly true. A few hundred metres from the market street is the square where public executions take place on some Fridays.
In March 2022, 81 people were executed on one day behind closed walls. The duality of the beautiful and the cruel travels with you in Saudi Arabia – if you have eyes to see it. The country makes it easy for tourists to be lost in wonder. Early in the morning, we drive from Riyadh's nightlife district, Tahlia Street, to the airport. The outdated building is soon to be replaced: Crown Prince bin Salman announced at the end of November that he would launch a huge construction project. Before our plane takes off from Riyadh at dawn, a travel prayer sounds from the loudspeakers. Goodbye, Saudi Arabia.
Karin A. Wenger (text) and Philipp Breu (photos)
© Qantara.de 2023